Old and Wise
by Sasjah Miller
Summary: Boromir teaches Merry and Pippin to fight and Aragorn is quietly despairing." (homoerotic content)


Title: Old and Wise  
  
Author: Sasjah Miller  
  
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: yes, please  
  
Archive: please ask, I'll probably say yes  
  
Disclaimer: not mine, Tolkien's  
  
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"So sit on top of the world   
  
And tell me how you're feeling;   
  
What you feel is what I feel for you."   
  
Dido - Take My Hand   
  
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I'm twice the age you are. I realize that as I watch you fooling   
  
around with Merry and Pippin, practising their sword moves with   
  
them, teaching them how to defend themselves. You are   
  
professional in your teachings, a swordmaster by nature and   
  
practice, yet you manage to bring pleasure into their mastering so   
  
serious a thing. We have made our camp on the top of a barren hill,   
  
and there is time for some sorely needed rest and merriment. I sit   
  
perched on a bare rock, quietly smoking a pipe and watching the   
  
two smallest Hobbits throwing you on the ground, landing on top of   
  
you, each one of you laughing. It is the first time I've seen you   
  
truly happy, Boromir. The first time I see the laugh that brightens   
  
up your face, turning it from merely handsome into absolutely   
  
stunning.   
  
You would be a great father. I see that in the way you deal with   
  
the young Hobbits, even if they are not children anymore; they   
  
respond to you with a certain boyishness that is absolutely   
  
adorable. I wonder why you never married.   
  
I have an idea, but I dare not let it take possession of my mind   
  
because it would completely upset the balance of my life. For if   
  
what I suspect is true, if the looks and glances you throw in my   
  
direction when we sit by the fire at night, if the shiver of pleasure   
  
that coursed through my body as your eyes met mine in Rivendell,   
  
if your constant nearness to me when we are travelling are any   
  
indication that you feel about me as I feel about you I know why   
  
you never took a wife. And I don't know how to deal with that. I   
  
am betrothed, I have pledged my life to another, having already   
  
forsaken the love of one person and I cannot stand the thought of   
  
going through that again, even if Legolas and I have settled our   
  
issues long ago in Mirkwood and we are friends again.   
  
And then there is this other thing, the fact that I could be your   
  
father, even if I know for sure I'm not. I might have been, though.   
  
I was there in Minas Tirith when you were born, I saw you when   
  
you were just a baby, suckling at your mother's breast, over forty   
  
years ago when I was not Aragorn, but Thorongil and your father   
  
vied with me for his own father's attentions. Denethor was always   
  
a harsh man and from what I gather that did not change during the   
  
time you and your brother Faramir were growing up. I feel for you,   
  
knowing that my being around when he was wooing Finduilas, your   
  
mother, must have caused you suffering. I am sure he has taken it   
  
out on you in one way or another. He has never forgiven me for   
  
the fact that everyone he cared for heeded my advice, wanted my   
  
company even if I did not seek them out. Not only your   
  
grandfather Ecthelion, Boromir, but your mother too preferred me   
  
over Denethor. She loved me and the fact that I did not return her   
  
feelings drove her into a marriage in which only you and your   
  
brother brought her any happiness. So you see I verily could have   
  
been your father, but I am very glad that I am not. It is confusing   
  
enough as it is, to have the image of a two-year-old toddler riding   
  
horsey on my knee being overlain with your presence of which I   
  
am aware every minute of the day. You've become a handsome   
  
man, Boromir, a leader of Men, a veritable Captain of the Guard,   
  
someone that I would gladly follow into battle and beyond were I a   
  
soldier of Gondor.   
  
But I am not and that is yet another issue that will continue to   
  
stand between us. Eventually you will have to bow to me,   
  
recognize my claims to the throne of your Kingdom, however hard   
  
it may be to you. And for that reason my heart bleeds for you.   
  
Because I will hurt you, whichever path I choose.   
  
There is only one path that would lead to shortlived happiness for   
  
me and you and even that path is strewn with sorrow. Chosing it   
  
would mean betraying Arwen, betraying the Fellowship, betraying   
  
the free lands of Middle Earth, in all probability casting them into   
  
eternal darkness. Were we to leave now, Boromir, run off in the   
  
night together, we might have a slim chance of escaping Legolas'   
  
sharp eye and Gandalf's wrath and maybe we would be able to   
  
make it to someplace safe. For just a short moment. Because our   
  
abandonment of the quest would mean the downfall of Middle   
  
Earth, I am sure of that. Our happiness would be shortlived indeed.   
  
So there really is no choice, Boromir. We go on, casting furtive   
  
looks in each other's direction, hoping no one sees them, seeking   
  
out one another's company under the pretence of forming the rear   
  
guard, and acting as if we are merely discussing strategy when we   
  
are huddling close, bent over a crude map drawn in the sand, while   
  
all I want to do is kiss your face and feel your warm skin against   
  
mine.   
  
I am the oldest, I should be the wisest, and normally I am in   
  
command of myself, but right now I just want to take leave of my   
  
senses and do what my heart tells me.   
  
Boromir, I can only pray that you are wise beyond your years,   
  
because, truly, even though I am so much older than you I don't   
  
know whether I can manage being wise for very much longer.   
  
The End 


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